


I never went to oovoo javer

by ure_pi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I've only been in an uber once in my life idk how it works, because this is it, new car smell, uber driver au, what's shorter than a drabble?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13191636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ure_pi/pseuds/ure_pi
Summary: This is your uber driver. Am outsideAKA our favorite Undertale characters fill their spare time by picking up our dear readers. I don't really have a plan for this





	1. Hot Rod - Papyrus (UT)

**From: XXX-2557 16:32**

HELLO! IT'S YOUR UBER DRIVER! I A

 

Your brows furrow at the cut-off message, but the rest of it comes shortly after.

 

**From: XXX-2557 16:32**

I'M OUTSIDE!

 

After making sure the door is locked behind you, you make your way to the street. The driver’s profile said that they would be in a red sports car, and you had to admit that you were rather excited about riding in one. The blinding red automobile is hard to miss, and you half-jog up to the passenger’s side.  
  
You knock on the window before opening the door, and settle into the seat. The first thing that hits you is the scent of basil, and that your driver is a skeleton.  
  
You had expected it, since the - Papyrus, was it? - profile picture was of himself, albeit with sunglasses on. It was another thing to actually meet a skeleton monster for the first time.  
  
“Hello! You must be my passenger for today!” He extends a gloved hand, giving you a couple of solid shakes when you take it. “Welcome to... my car!” The wide grin on his skull grows impossibly wider, and you find yourself smiling as well.  
  
“Thanks, man,” you chuckle, buckling in. “I’ve never been in a sports car before, so this is pretty cool.”  
  
“Oh! To celebrate the occasion, would you like to make your ride with The Great and Magnificent Papyrus much more special?”  
  
You involuntarily tense up. You’ve had less than pleasant encounters with other drivers before, and you're wary of what Papyrus meant by ‘special’. You stare at him; monster or not, you can tell when a smile is genuine, and he doesn't seem to be hiding any ulterior motive.  
  
Shrugging, you decide to humor him and say you would like to. After an enthusiastic ‘Goody!’, Papyrus pushes a button beside the steering wheel, and the sunroof begins to pull back.  
  
You try not to gape, but it is just so cool. Papyrus looks rather proud of himself as he starts the engine.

"Please keep all hands, legs, and other appendages within the vehicle at all times!" he announces with gusto as he begins to pull away from the curb. "However, you may stick your head out of the window if you wish. I know this must be exhilarating for you."  
  
Papyrus is a great driver, with smooth turns and conscientiousness for others on the road (you’d never seen anyone signal out their window that deliberately). You usually refrain from small talk during rides, but his cheerfulness is so infectious that you find yourself enjoying the conversation.  
  
“So why a red sports car?”

"I've always wanted to speed down the highway with the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair."  
  
You stifle a giggle but let the grin spread. “It suits you.”

"Really? Thank you! Most people just point out I have neither hair nor skin, but I think they're just jealous."  
  
"Of what?"

"Of how cool I am!"

You laugh in agreement, and settle into the seat. Papyrus is right - it does feel great to feel the wind and the warm sunlight. You even feel like sticking your hands up like you're in a music video, but you quash that temptation. The car is only going about 40 miles per hour, and that sort of thing only looks good when you're actually tearing down a highway. Besides, Papyrus did remind you to have all limbs in the car.

"We're almost at your destination!" Papyrus slows down at the last stoplight and flips the sunroof back up. You notice in the side mirror that your hair is looking pretty frazzled, and you try to fix it as he drives up to your block.

"Thanks for the fun ride, Papyrus," you say, gathering your things.

"No, thank _you_ for being a wonderful passenger!" He beams at you before producing a card from the pocket of his denim shorts. "Here's a point card!"

You curiously pluck the card from his gloves. On one side is a meticulously drawn red sports car - most likely the same one you're riding in - with the words 'PAPYRUS' HOT ROD' written underneath in honest-to-goodness Papyrus font. You turn it over and notice that there are ten small boxes, the first of which has a sticker of a flower pasted on it.

"Every five rides gets you complementary spaghetti to go. Complete a card and you get a mystery prize!" Something about the gleam in his eyes tells you it might be more spaghetti.

Another laugh bubbles out of you. Sliding the card into your bag, you start making your way out of the car. "Bye, Papyrus. Drive safe!"

"Have a nice day!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked a friend who worked in Uber's offices and they said that you don't/won't get the same driver twice, but let's pretend you live somewhere that has a relatively small pool of drivers to begin with. Also just let me have my plot hole-ridden AU.
> 
> Further chapters will be just as short, or not very long at all. Honestly these are just 'imagine your fav being your uber driver' scenarios at best. I suck at writing fanfics thanks!!!
> 
> Next is Sans... Now what kind of vehicle will he be picking you up in?


	2. Hot Dog - Sans (UT)

**From: XXX-1514 11:51**

knock knock  
  
**To: XXX-1514 11:51**

New phone hu dis

**From: XXX-1514 11:51**

lmao. for real tho, im your driver. outside rn

**To: XXX-1514 11:52**

I don’t see u?

**From: XXX-1514 11:52**

im here man

 **To: XXX-1514 11:52**  
  
?? Nothing here but a hot dog van

**From: XXX-1514 11:53**

bingo

  
  
“What?!” you exclaim, looking up from your phone and across the street at the hot dog van parked by a hydrant. Sure enough, a skull pokes through the window and grins at you. For added measure, your driver starts honking and waving.  
  
Well, whatever. You're already running late, and you suppose a hot dog van can get you safely to your destination.  
  
You slide into the passenger seat, since the back is an honest-to-goodness kitchen area. You absentmindedly wonder if you’re breaking any food health regulations by being in this van, but your driver Sans is registered, so it shouldn’t be a problem if he can pick up passengers...?  
  
“Buckle up, kiddo,” Sans chuckles as he turns on the engine. It sputters for a few moments before rumbling to life, and the hot dog van jingle starts to play.  
  
“Please tell me you’re not gonna keep that on.”  
  
“Selling hot dogs is my main gig,” he drawls, checking the side mirror for traffic. “Can’t slack off and deny the people their dogs.”  
  
“But you’re driving me right now,” you state lamely, trying to ignore the swinging hot dog mascot hanging from the rear view mirror.  
  
“A side hustle. Gotta keep my family fed, right?” He turns slightly to grin at you again. You wonder if he’s perpetually grinning just to get a rise out of others, but it turns out that’s just his face.  
  
You settle into your seat awkwardly, counting the crumpled condiment packets littering the dashboard. The jingle is still playing, and after a few loops you're starting to hum along. At a traffic light, Sans turns around and gropes about in the back.  
  
He turns to you and offers you a hot dog.  
  
“Here, kid. It’s on the house.” Sans winks (winks!! How did he...) at you, and places it in your hands. “Think of it as hush money from the FDA.”  
  
A couple of moments pass before he breaks and starts chortling at your shocked expression. You stare at him incredulously, almost wanting to jump out of the moving van.  
  
“I’m- I’m kidding. Please don’t give me a one star rating.”  
  
“I just might, that was a mean joke.”  
  
“‘M sorry, honest.” He takes a moment to stop wheezing and turns to you. “Seriously, though, go ahead and eat it.”  
  
You wait till the next light before you take a tentative bite of the curiously-shaped hotdog. One end of it had a face that almost looked like a cat. The hotdog-but-perhaps-hotcat is delicious.  
  
“Sho good!” you smile at him, furiously munching away.  
  
“Yeah? Old recipe from the Underground.” His eye lights roam over your face, which is currently in bliss from the juicy hotdog. “‘M glad you like it.”  
  
“What’s in it?” you ask, almost half done.  
  
“Oh you know, dogs.”  
  
You choke, and this time Sans guffaws wholeheartedly. In between gasps for breath he apologizes and assures it’s vegetarian, but you’re seriously considering reporting him for all the pranks he’s pulling.  
  
“Thanks for the grub,” you grumble, actually thankful for the meal but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your gratitude.  
  
“Not a problem.” His tone is light as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Something told me you're late and haven't had a bite to eat."

"How did you...?" You subconsciously check yourself in the side mirror, but nothing looks like it could be telling of you having slept through your alarms and consequently missing breakfast.

Sans chuckles again. "Oh, I was right? Well, I'll be _dog_ goned." He side eyes you as you groan. "I was just leading up to a joke about how you looked _ruff_."

He pulls up to the curb just as he delivers the punchline. With another exaggerated groan, you exit the van. Before you shut the door, he leans towards you and waves.

"Buh-bye now! Come by for more dogs if you see me."

"I really hope I don't."

With another chuckle, Sans drives away. You realize belatedly that he had turned off the van jingle. That jerk, he left it on during the ride just to mess with you! Despite this, you feel yourself grinning just a little. As you enter the building, you're humming again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wanted to have Sans actually sing the jingle (there's a roasted sweet potato van in my city where the driver sings as he drives around) but I couldn't think of lyrics.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Take out - Papyrus (US)

You're shaken out of your thoughts by a bony hand waving in front of your face, and you look up with a start. A scream starts to form, but you abort it hastily when you realize that the skeleton staring at you is only your driver.

"We're, uh," he says, his voice a little scratchy like he'd just woken up. "We're here?"

A quick look out the window confirms that you're indeed at the destination you'd specified when calling for an uber, but you can't bring yourself to leave. You're exhausted, and you know that once your head hits the pillow it's lights out for you, but recently you've started to hate being alone at home. You hate being alone anywhere nowadays, but it's inevitable. The breakup was hard, and you know you're not the only one hurting, but damn if you aren't pissed off and upset that it happened--

"You okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" you snap before you can stop yourself. The skeleton raises a brow bone, and you mumble an apology. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"No problem, man. I understand." He eases into an unfazed mien, and settles back into his seat. "But you gonna, uh, you gonna get out or what?"

You cast another look at the entrance of your apartment building and let out a sigh. "Can you drive around the block or something?" You let your head fall into your hands. "I don't... I can't be alone yet."

The driver eyes you in his rear view mirror. "Um, sure. I was thinking of getting some take-out, if you, uh, if you don't mind the drive." He waits until you nod before he pulls away from the curb.

\---

Papyrus has been at this for about a year now, usually at night when he can't fall asleep, which is rather often if he had to admit. Still, it's better than wasting away in his room and staying on the internet till morning. Picking up fares at night makes for amusing drives, and he likes seeing the different sorts of humans and monsters prowling about the city. There are still a couple of assholes who refuse to ride because he's a monster, but for every one of them there are other, friendlier customers who don't mind.

He was particularly pensive tonight, and decide to go on a drive to Muffet's to clear his mind. Turns out there was someone who needed a lift and their stop was in the same direction, so he figured why not. You were quiet, and didn't say a word other than 'thanks' when you got in. Papyrus could tell you were preoccupied with something, and decided not to strike up a conversation like he usually does with others. He prides himself on being conscientious of his passengers (and also because he'd like to keep his positive rating).

Halfway through the short drive he'd heard a sniffle, and he was almost about to hand you the Kleenex when he stole a look in the rear view mirror. Sure, you were almost on the verge of tears, but it looked like a private moment so Papyrus decided to let you deal with the snot on your own. True enough, you dug around in your bag for some napkins and dabbed at your face.

Then you decided not to leave his car, and asked to be driven around again. Papyrus almost said no, sorry, but you looked so sad when you mumbled that you didn't want to be alone. That's why he decided to let you tag along - free of charge, he suddenly realizes - to his midnight run to Muffet's.

"You want anything?" he asks, unbuckling his seat belt. He's parked on the curb just outside Muffet's, a quaintly decorated establishment. You can't see past the heavy purple curtains in the front windows, but from glimpses beyond the door, it looks like a homey place.

"What do they have?"

"Café food. Uh, pastries and stuff. Coffee, too."

"This late at night?"

"Think she might have tea, dunno."

"...I'll have whatever you're getting."

"Okay. Be back in a few."

He doesn't wait for your answer, and you don't give one anyway. You sink a little lower into the back seat, feeling terrible that you're imposing on this very nice skeleton, but you really didn't want to be left alone. Even if you aren't talking to him, his presence and the white noise of the engine and radio helps you feel less isolated.

Papyrus comes back after a few minutes, carrying paper bags that smell heavenly. He sets them on the passenger seat, and passes you a paper cup filled with sweet-smelling tea. You reach for your wallet and try to pay for it, but he shakes his head and says it's part of his service as your driver. You gratefully accept the cup, but secretly stick a twenty somewhere in the back seat.

"That's, uh, her specialty blend," he explains, reaching into one of the bags to pull out what looks like a beignet. "I got doubles of my usual, if you wanna, uh, if you'd like some. It's okay if you don't. I, heh, I'll eat it all anyway." He angles the paper bag towards you, and digs into his pastry. From another bag, he gets out a bottle of viscous yellow liquid, which he proceeds to chug from. You decide not to ask what it is.

"Thanks." You sip the tea and feel the warmth spread through your chest. Slowly, you start to feel a little better, and reach into the bag for a warm pastry. "Hey... Papyrus, was it?"

His mouth is full, but he manages to say something that sounds like a 'yep'.

"I'm sorry for all of this, but I really appreciate it." You stare into the cup, the amber liquid reflecting your face. "It's been a hard couple of days, and I know it's none of your business, but this really helped."

Papyrus stares at you again through the mirror, his expression neutral. "I don't mind. It's just, uh, I was kinda scared you were gonna knife me or something."

This makes you look up, your mouth starting to quirk into a smile. "Knife you?"

"I even had this speech prepared, like, hey man. Uber drivers don't get paid in actual cash. You're barking up the wrong skeleton." He lifts his hands in mock surrender, and you can't help but notice he's still holding onto a half-eaten beignet in one. You start to laugh despite yourself, and Papyrus turns to face you.

"There we go," he says softly. "Thought I'd try to make you laugh."

You blush a little, and take a pointed sip of the tea. Papyrus picks up on this, and turns back to devour something else, this time a donut. A couple of minutes pass by in comfortable silence before you break it with a quiet 'thank you'.

"Don't mention it. I've had days like that before. It, it gets to the best of us, heh?"

"I'm just so angry about it. At myself, at that asshole. But mostly angry because I'm letting it affect me so much."

"Hey, man. It's okay to hurt."

You look up and see Papyrus staring out the window.

"Dunno what's eating you, but I'm sure you're strong enough to, uh, defeat? Overcome this. Even if it takes you ages. That's the thing about you humans." His eyes flick to you. "You guys fuck up so much--"

"Well, jeez."

"Yeah, sorry, but it's the truth. You fuck up, you hurt, but you learn from it. Eventually, I guess. I'll, uh, I'm gonna retract that statement if another war rolls around, though."

"Dude, that's not helping."

Papyrus chuckles, his shoulders shaking. His roundabout way of cheering you up seems to be working, and you feel a little more confident that you'll be able to get over this heartache. It won't be quick and it's definitely not going to be easy, but it doesn't mean you aren't going to try. Life is messy and complicated, but you've always gotten through rough patches in the past. This time isn't going to be any different, you decide.

"Papyrus?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for this. I'd like to go back now."

"Okay."

He starts up the engine again, and makes a turn in the direction you came from. After a couple of minutes of driving, he speaks up again.

"I kinda, uh, I forgot your address."

"Oh, it's right around--"

"I think I'm lost?"

"Oh my god, Papyrus."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Paps to drive me around and give me food and advice. Also he seems like he'd play good music?
> 
> This got away from me at some points but I hope you liked it!!


	4. Fake Taxi - Mettaton & Napstablook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t an uber but enjoy anyway!

You had planned to walk to your next destination, but a sudden downpour made you flag the first taxi you saw. It was a sleek, black sedan that probably belonged to one of the private companies, but you wouldn’t mind paying the premium if it meant getting there dry.

“Some rain, huh,” you say as you hop in quickly. You aren’t soaked yet, but you apologize for the dampness and rattle off the address to the driver. Looking up, you realize that they’re kind of see-through. You driver is a ghost, albeit one wearing a similarly translucent driver’s cap.

A quick glance at the license hanging from the side of the window reveals the driver as Napstablook, operating under MTT Co. You haven’t heard of that cab company, but you figure it must be a small one, probably run by monsters or something. Well, monster or not, it isn’t a big deal as long as you get there in once piece.

You stare absentmindedly at the driver, wondering how they’re managing to hold onto the wheel with their nubby hands. Also, do they have feet? Do they reach the pedals? The logistics of being a ghost taxi driver escape you, but they seem to be doing a fine job.

At a traffic light, the driver starts to speak, although in a small voice.

“Welcome... To the MTT Fake Taxi...”

“Pardon? Could you say that again?”

“Oh... I’m sorry... Maybe I should just...”

One of their nubs reaches over to the ominously red and flashing button, and the stereos emit a loud buzzer sound.

“OH YES!!!”

A screen descends from the car roof (you didn’t even notice it had a screen?!) and the car interior takes on a vivid pink hue (how did that happen??). Game show music starts to play, and the screen flickers to life. A blocky machine with bendy arms is standing on a platform with a row of spotlights behind it, and it’s waving at you.

“WELCOME TO THE MTT FAKE TAXI!”

Oh. _Oh_. So that’s what the ghost was trying to say! But why is that name so familiar— Oh, no.

“Isn’t Fake Taxi done by professionals?!” you ask, alarmed. “I’m not— I don’t wanna be in a porno!!!”

“DARLING, WHAT? THIS ISN’T A PO-“

“This is Fake Taxi, isn’t it?? Lemme out!!!” You try opening the door, but it’s locked. Napstablook makes flustered noises and tells you that it’s dangerous to open the door while driving.

“IT’S— PLEASE JUST LISTEN—“

“I swear I won’t tell anyone you’re doing this just please let me go—“ The buzzer cuts you off, and the screen zooms into the robot. A panel of red and yellow lights rearranges itself to form what looks like... a frowny face?

“LISTEN PLEASE!” You quieten down only because you’re surprised that a robotic voice could take on such a tone. “YES, THIS IS A FAKE TAXI, BUT WE’RE NOT A PORNO? HOW DOES THAT EVEN... NEVER MIND, WE’RE ALMOST OUT OF TIME. AHEM! WELCOME TO THE MTT FAKE TAXI, WHERE YOUR RIDE IS FREE... IF YOU CAN ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS CORRECTLY!”

You stare at the screen for a few seconds, the cogs turning in your head. Answering questions? A free ride if you got them correct? Not a porno? You break into a smile when you realize that they probably just made a mistake in naming this little game.

“So you’re more like Cash Cab instead? That’s a relief.”

“WHAT’S A CASH CA-YOU KNOW WHAT? NEVER MIND THAT!” The robot throws its hands up, but it’s apparently just to set off a bunch of confetti canons - both on screen and within the cab, making you yelp. “I’LL BE ASKING THE QUESTIONS FROM HERE ON, SWEETIE, SO SIT BACK! RELAX! ENJOY MTT FAKE TAXI!”

Upbeat music begins to play as the robot dramatically poses, and the words ‘QUESTION 1’ flash on the screen.

“LET’S START WITH AN EASY ONE! HOW MANY MOVIES (INCLUDING STRAIGHT TO DVD) HAVE I, METTATON, STARRED IN? A: 74; B: 120; C: 37; D: ALL OF THE ABOVE.”

Your mouth drops open. You don’t even know this guy? How can the answer possibly be all of the above, anyway? You look to your driver desperately, but they don’t give any clues. Looks like you’re on your own for this one.

“TICK TOCK, DARLING!”

“Uhhh, D?” You hazard a guess, although you mentally kick yourself for picking the silliest-sounding one. Honestly at this point you don’t care if you end up having to pay double the fare, if it’ll just get you there—

“CORRECT!!!” Another round of confetti attacks you, and the robot does a twirl. “I’M IMPRESSED, YOU MUST BE A REAL BIG FAN!”

You don’t even bother correcting him, but nod anyway. “Great! Can we get to the next one?”

“EAGER TO CONTINUE YOUR WINNING STREAK, I SEE! HERE’S QUESTION TWO! IN WHAT YEAR DID I WIN THE ACADEMY AWARD FOR MY PERIOD ROMANCE, ‘GONE WITH THE METTATON’?”

Mettaton rattles off a bunch of years, but you don’t catch a thing because you’re busy looking at your driver. One of their nubs has left its position on the wheel, and is slowly forming itself into a curious shape. You squint a little more and realize what they’re trying to do.

”A! Is it A?”

”MARVELOUS! I MUST SAY, YOU CONTINUE TO SURPRISE ME!” Mettaton gives you a round of applause - he actually claps his hands in a circle, and you wonder if he’s doing that just to annoy you.

”NOW FOR YOUR FINAL QUESTION! ANSWER CORRECTLY, YOUR RIDE IS FREE. GET IT WRONG...” The screen zooms in once again, and the robot looks positively foreboding. “YOU’LL HAVE TO PAY.”

You know for a fact that it just means you have to pay the fare, but you can’t help but feel like there are other meanings hidden in that statement. Still, you put your game face on and nod. Drumroll plays, and a single spotlight illuminates Mettaton on the stage. The lights in the car dim as well, and you feel strangely on edge.

”WOULD YOU SMOOCH A GHOST?”

The question takes you by surprise. Mettaton doesn’t offer any options to choose from, but you’re sure there’s only one correct answer. After casting a quick glance at your driver (who’s trying not to look interested but failing adorably), you turn back to the screen and face Mettaton head on.

”Yes. Yes, I would.” Even without prompting, you’d be the first to admit that you found Casper in that one movie extremely smoochable (his human reincarnation? Not so much). Heck, even your driver’s kinda cute in a marshmallow-y way! This question is a throwaway, and it’s confirmed by the fanfare and copious amount of confetti launched in your face.

”CORRECT!!! BLOOKY, DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

”Oh...” Your driver seems to be trembling a little.

”CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU GET A FREE RIDE!!!”

”Um, yay?” You’re confused but relieved to finally be able to get out of the car.

”WELL, I HOPE THIS HAS BEEN A FUN RIDE FOR YOU! SEE YOU AGAIN IN MTT FAKE TAXI!” As the screen begins to retract into the roof, you hear a loudly whispered ‘DON’T BE SHY BLOOKY’ before it shuts completely.

In a few moments, the taxi pulls up to your destination. It’s still raining, but at least it’s only a short run to the entrance.

”Thanks a lot for the ride!” you say to the driver, who’s turned a little to glance at you. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

”It’s fine... I like seeing MTT have fun...”

You try not to d’aww out loud, but you’re sure it translated into the goofy grin on your face. “Well... See you around!” With that, you’re out of the taxi and running through the rain.

If you’d stayed just a few seconds longer, you would’ve seen Napstablook extend a hand and give a small wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To save you an awkward google search, Fake Taxi is a series of porn videos where - you guessed it - passengers get frisky with cabbies. Wonder why reacher-chan knows about it?


End file.
